Chapter 2

That night, I fell into an exhausted sleep, my mind still replaying the day. My dreams took me back to my childhood, to my father' s dusty workshop. He wasn't an architect, but a craftsman, a builder. I remembered the smell of sawdust and varnish, the comforting weight of his hand on my shoulder as he showed me how to read a blueprint. "See, Sarah," he'd said, his voice a low, warm rumble. "Every line has a purpose. Everything connects."

The dream shifted, the warm workshop dissolving into the cold, sleek lobby of the firm. I was twenty-four again, standing in front of David after a company party. Buoyed by cheap wine and foolish hope, I had confessed my feelings. "I really admire you, David. I have for a long time."

He didn't smile. He didn't even look uncomfortable. He just looked through me. "We're colleagues, Sarah. Let's keep it professional." The rejection was so clean, so absolute, it left no room for hope, yet I' d spent the next six years trying to prove him wrong.

I woke with a jolt, not from the dream, but from the shrill ringing of my phone. It was David. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Where are you?" he demanded, his voice sharp with irritation. There was no greeting.

I blinked, trying to clear the sleep from my head. I looked at the clock. It was 5:30 AM. "I... I'm at home."

"The inspection for the Sterling Tower site is at six. Emily is already waiting in the lobby. I told you yesterday this was critical."

My blood ran cold. He had mentioned it, but in passing, and the email had never come through. He was blaming me for his own oversight. "I didn't get the email," I said, my voice small.

"I don't have time for excuses. Get here now," he snapped, then hung up.

The injustice of it stung. He would never speak to Emily that way. I scrambled out of bed, throwing on clothes, my mind a whirlwind of anger and humiliation. He found new ways to make me feel small every single day.

I made it to the firm in record time. David and Emily were waiting in his car, a sleek black sedan. The air inside was thick with a tense silence. The city outside was still dark, the streetlights casting long, lonely shadows on the wet pavement. It felt oppressive, mirroring the crushing weight in my chest.

As we drove, David's phone buzzed on the center console. The screen lit up, showing a notification. It was a calendar reminder: "Pick up Emily's ring."

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the words, unable to look away. It wasn't just a fling. It wasn't just favoritism. It was real. They were getting engaged. The hope I didn't even know I was still holding onto died a swift, brutal death right there in the passenger seat of his car.

"There's a great coffee shop near the site," David said, oblivious to my inner turmoil. He was speaking to me, but his eyes were on Emily in the rearview mirror. "We can grab breakfast after the inspection."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I can't. I have other plans."

He glanced at me, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Fine."

The single word was a dismissal. I was already a ghost to him. I turned my head to look out the window, watching the dark city streets fly by, feeling an immense, unbridgeable distance open up between us.